


these, our bodies, possessed by light

by fundamentalBlue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Civil War (Marvel), Dark Steve Rogers, Dubious Consent, I just wanted to write Tony and Steve banging in Sibera, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, revoked consent, so i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fundamentalBlue/pseuds/fundamentalBlue
Summary: “I always hurt you, don’t I?” Steve asks. He’s panting, exhaustion lining his features, as well as something that looks like regret.“Maybe that’s all you’re good for.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 87
Collections: Stony*





	these, our bodies, possessed by light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [resurrectedhippo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectedhippo/gifts).



> Thank you Desdaemona for the cheer read, and slythieamour for the wonderful beta!

Barnes— he doesn’t get up. 

Steve is at the man’s side before Tony can get him too. 

Tony’s too good to attack a man while he’s down, and he’s too good to hit Steve in the face while the man checks over his worthless friend. Because Tony isn’t a fucking liar, or a bad person.

“Well?” Tony is standing there, armor bent and scraped, almost apart at the seams, Friday warning him that his systems are going to go offline, that he won’t be able to make it out of Siberia on his own. He could die here. Would die here, with Barnes and Steve all wrapped up in a frozen tomb where he never has to confront the fact that the best man he knew justifies his decisions on selfish aims. 

“He’s alive, but knocked out. With his injuries… It’ll be an hour before he wakes.” Steve looks pensive, and he stands up from Barnes, eying Tony with some amount of trepidation. 

“He deserves to die.” Tony’s not even sure he believes that anymore, but he’s too invested in this outcome to let it go. They’re both too bloody, too sure in their positions to do anything less. 

“It wasn’t him.” What if Barnes had bombed the UN? What if it were T’Challa and Tony here, both enacting vengeance for their parents. Steve wouldn’t stand a chance. He wonders where kitty-cat is. Is he self righteously telling himself that he won’t interfere? Why is everyone in this world a practitioner of “for me, but not for thee?” 

“Guess that wasn’t something I ever got to have time to come to terms with, is it? Wonder how that happened.” Tony doesn’t know if it would have made a difference, but he likes to think it would have. The rage he feels is incandescent. He _needs_ Barnes to feel what it was like to have someone punch his father in the face so hard that he died. To know what a hand held tightly around his throat felt like, for his mother. Tony is sick with it, the desire to crush everything that Barnes is into _nothing_.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” Steve’s eyes are boring into him, the blood on his face accentuating the hollowed-out stare that he’s giving Tony. 

“See, you keep lying Steve. Look at me. _Look_.” 

“I never wanted to hurt you, but I always do. All I ever wanted was to care for you—”

“Care for me? What does that even mean?” He doesn’t want to hear Steve’s excuses, his lies, not anymore. Steve has never treasured Tony as Tony does—did—Steve. 

“Tony, you have to know. You have to.” 

“What is there to know? How, since at any point in the past three years since the Triskelion incident you could've told me? No, I’m fucking done with this.” Tony showers Steve in repulsor energy, the shield bouncing each beam back, some sliding harmlessly past while others push him back up into a wall. Steve is there then, shield in hand. 

Steve aims the shield like a bludgeon, slamming it again and again into the face mask and torso of the armor. 

“Never meant—” The shield comes down and the HUD is flickering, Friday warning him that he can’t beat Cap hand-to-hand. 

“—to hurt you—” Tony is _losing_. Cap’s shield is more than a match for his armor. 

“—but I always—” It’s dizzying, getting hit repeatedly. He wants so badly to go to his knees, let Steve take the rest out on him, to give him what he deserves for not being able to control himself. He knows Barnes isn’t truly guilty, he just doesn’t care anymore. Deep down, the greater insult is that Steve has chosen someone else over him. After everything they’ve been through, Tony means next to nothing. He broke the Accords to go help Steve, for nothing. 

Maybe it’s no less than he deserves. 

“—do.” Tony hits the shield with a well-timed repulsor, sending it flying overhead. He slams another blast into Steve’s chest, shoving him back several feet. 

They grapple as Tony tries to stay out of range of Steve’s indomitable strength. Cap takes repulsor blasts that send him to his knees. 

“He’s my friend.” Cap is on the ground now, and he looks up at Tony with imploring eyes, a warning that what comes next will be the end of things. Tony doesn’t heed it. 

“So was I.” 

Which is when things go to shit. Steve gets a hold of Tony as he tries to fly out of his grip, slams Tony to the ground and mounts him there, fists battering down onto the face plate. Each punch is accentuated by a grunt, and Tony thinks about how he once longed to hear those noises in far more pleasant circumstances. 

He’s always searched for love in all the wrong places, so he can’t complain when it betrays him. 

The helmet peels apart under the onslaught, and Tony feels every drop of sweat and blood on his face, a warm brand that’s his only comfort as Steve brings the shield down, down, down onto his reactor. It slices his power supply in half, and Tony wants to scream at the unfairness of it, the helplessness he feels coursing through his body. 

Steve stops, gripping the shield and panting over him. 

“I always hurt you, don’t I?” Steve asks. He’s panting, exhaustion lining his features, as well as something that looks like regret. 

“Maybe that’s all you’re good for.” Steve pauses for an undetermined amount of time before he pulls his cowl off, and gazes down at Tony with now inscrutable features. He’s trying so hard to figure out what Steve is thinking while at the same time calculating his odds of being able to walk out of here with his several hundred-pound armor on his own strength, which he considers to be impossible. He has to get it off, has to leave this place. 

He wiggles under Steve, hips slip-sliding between the man’s thighs, and Steve’s eyes widen. 

“I think—I think I wanted to hurt you.” Steve clamps down over Tony’s hips and reaches up to cup Tony’s face in a mockery of intimacy. 

“I don’t doubt it. It takes premeditation to do what you did.” Because Tony can never shut up, he pokes the sleeping bear. 

“Maybe, or maybe I never considered why I’ve always thought you’re the most beautiful when you’re in pain.” Tony sucks in a breath. He doesn’t know where this is going. Of all the things that Steve could confront him with, the admittance that Steve _deliberately_ hurts him is not in the list of things he has responses for. 

“You gonna hurt me, Steve?” 

“Yeah, yeah I think I will. What’s the point of hiding it anymore?” Steve’s brows are furrowed, and there’s raw hunger in his eyes. Tony knows what it looks like because he sees it in the mirror every time he thinks of Steve. It looks ugly on Tony, and on Steve, it’s like the beauty of a predator. He half thinks that Steve wants something other than to end him. 

“At least you’re honest.” 

“I’m not sure you know how honest I’m going to be. But I think—I think I look forward to showing you.” Honest to god, Tony doesn’t really know what they’re talking about. He thinks that Steve is going to bash his head in, pull out the shield, and just do it. Make sure that Tony can never harm Barnes ever again. He’s going to die here, alone in the cold with a bunch of dead super soldiers. FRIDAY is gone, and there’s no one else here. 

But Steve does something much different than expected. He begins to pull at Tony’s armor, stripping him. First, the breastplates come down in chunks, and then the shoulder plates follow after, wires sparking with leftover processes. 

“Wait, what are you—stop.” He puts his arms up against Steve’s chest, and Steve smashes them to the ground above Tony’s head, both wrists held in one large hand. Steve continues his ministrations, pulling stubborn panel after stubborn panel, flaying the armor from his flesh. He can’t help it, he wriggles, uncomfortable, between Steve’s thighs, and Steve responds by letting his hands go and flipping him over. 

One hand firmly placed in the middle of his back, Steve keeps shucking. Tony has no idea what’s happening. Maybe Steve is going to kill him out of his armor. Maybe he’s going to beat Tony’s chest or back in, leaving him broken on the floor. The simple truth is, that he has no power here, except what Steve gives him. 

“Steve, what is this? What the fuck are you doing?” 

Steve chuckles. “Language.” 

“I gotta ask if you can just leave my face alone for the funeral.” 

“Tony.” He’s almost bare under the armor, his thin tank top leaving him to shiver in the chill air. “That’s not what this is about,” Steve continues. 

Steve’s hand slides down Tony’s ribcage, fingers digging into his sides. Steve has all of his back panels off, including the ones covering his ass. Testing, Tony moves a leg, trying to gain some leverage to get out from under Steve. Instead, Steve responds by hooking his feet over Tony’s ankles. 

It changes everything. Suddenly the position isn’t so much about beating Tony, but something else far more sinister. When Steve’s hand slides down and his fingers curl into Tony’s waistband, Tony knows instantly what Steve wants. 

His whole body lights up in arousal. 

In all the times he’d known Steve, he’d dreamed of this, but he never in his wildest imaginings thought that Steve wanted the same, or that he’d go through with it. And because he can never keep quiet, he opens his mouth to taunt Steve. 

“You gonna hurt me good, Steve? Is that what you want?” Tony cants his ass up, letting Steve’s fingers sink deeper down the fabric, grazing his ass with cold fingernails. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s what I want. I want—I want to ruin you,” Steve says lowly, a confession. 

“And if I didn’t want to be ruined? What then?” 

“I think I might have you anyway.” Steve leans down and over Tony, covering Tony’s cold body with his incredible warmth. Tony is stunned at the admission, and as flattering as it is to be wanted, he can’t help but think about what he would have done if he wasn’t hopelessly in love with Steve. As it stands, he thinks he might be about to get fucked by the man who lied to him, who beat him. 

He should be struggling. It should be harder to accept this. 

It’s not. 

Steve turns his hand, his index finger slipping down Tony’s crack. It’s not the right angle, and Steve wrenches Tony’s pants down in response. The cold air on his ass is harsh, but Steve starts to rub his warm hands over the globes of Tony’s ass, and it feels immediately better. 

“Steve, you want to do this here?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Which is when it starts to get rough. Steve presses Tony’s face to the ground using one strong hand on his neck. The cold of the floor seeps into Tony’s cheek and he can feel the snow settle into his beard. 

Steve leans back to rest on his calves and Tony feels a glob of spit hit his exposed hole, which Steve follows up with a single finger, nudging at Tony’s furled entrance. He feels a sense of panic. There’s no lubricant here, or anything like it. Steve is going to take him dry and raw, and he can’t deny it scares him somewhat. 

“I don’t think—” But Steve hushes him, fingers curving around Tony’s mouth and pressing down on his jaw. 

When he feels Steve’s cockhead pressing at his entrance, he whines from behind Steve’s hand. It nudges at him, again and again, and Steve once more spits on the rim of his ass, rubbing it up his dick and down around Tony’s entrance. It gives him an inch or so in, but it burns. No effort was made to prep him. 

He tries to tell Steve that it hurts, but his mouth is muffled still. 

Steve doesn’t stop anyway. Tony can feel the tight ring of muscle as it fights every inch, every bit of Steve. When Steve seats himself, that last part is the most painful. It stretches him harshly and he cries out. Steve releases his hand off Tony’s mouth and moves to hold Tony’s hips as he starts his first slide back out. 

It fucking hurts. 

“Steve, please, I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” Steve is thrusting hard now, adjusting his position as he’s balls deep inside of Tony, and it’s agony. Tony thinks he’s tearing, Steve’s cock splitting him wide open. He looks across the floor and sees Barnes, out cold. He should have killed the man when he had the chance. He shouldn’t have pulled his punches on Steve either. 

It’s brutal, and it’s nothing like he imagined.

“Not like this, Steve, _please_ ,” he begs. 

“Wanna see you cry. Wanna hear you beg me.” Tony has already given as much as he can possibly give. There isn’t more to say. He just wants Steve to stop. It fucking hurts so badly, and he thinks he’s bleeding. It’s even more humiliating that through the ache and stinging, it feels so good. His body opens up to Steve, taking it and taking it. 

“Oh god, it’s so bad Steve, you’re going to break me, fuck, what are you doing?” It’s never been like this before, with anyone. He’s not one for prolonged pain, but there’s something mesmerizing in it. Tony is grounded by Steve’s cock, the cold a distant feeling, the warmth of Steve and his single-minded focus on pounding Tony all he feels. Every grind of his hips against the floor and all the deep ache of Steve’s cock pressing at his prostate from the inside. 

“Gonna ruin you. Want it to hurt.” Oh god, it does. It’s fucking wretched. Steve is huge inside him, and oh so hard. 

“This isn’t, no, this isn’t what I want,” he mumbles. His mouth isn’t working and there’s drool freezing on the floor below his mouth. 

“Yeah? Well, it’s what I want. And I’ve waited long enough to take it.” Tony’s heart stutters. Steve is a sadist. All the times Steve has hurt Tony, he’s wanted to. It’s been a long road of not understanding why Steve treats Tony the way he does, when Tony wears his pain on his sleeve. All along it’s been a game to Steve. It stings worse than the pain of Steve pummeling his ass. 

“Please Steve, _stop_. I can’t— I can’t do this!” He wants out of this. He’s not playing these fucking games with Steve. 

“Beg prettier, Tony. And maybe I’ll listen.” Oh no, oh god no. 

“I’m sorry about everything. I won’t try and hurt Bucky. I’ll do anything, I’ll blow you right now, anything Steve, please!” Tony is frantic now, and he tries to pull away from Steve’s savage thrusting. Yet he knows it won’t be effective. Steve is so many times stronger than him, it’s completely futile. But he has to try. 

“And why would I give up your sweet, tight ass? I have everything I want.” Fuck. It hurts, and Tony wants to cry. But he also doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction. 

It doesn’t seem to matter, as Steve grunts on top of him, his hands stretching Tony’s cheeks wide apart, the seams of his rim pricking with painful sensation. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

The burning is turning into dull throbbing, and he knows he’s bleeding now. Steve wouldn’t be moving so smoothly otherwise. 

It goes on and on, neverending but for Steve’s grunts and his merciless assault. Despite the pain, what comforts him is Steve’s fingertips ground into his hips, the v of his groin smashing against his bare flesh, and Steve’s breath near his shoulder. He can almost imagine that he’s in bed, in the tower, and Steve is his lover. It makes him float above the pain. 

There is no point in begging anymore. He can feel Steve’s aborted movements bringing him closer to completion. Tears are leaking from his eyes onto the floor, freezing there. His breath comes in misty pants, condensation accumulating in his beard.

“I’ve always loved you Tony. Really, I have,” Steve says as he slows his pace, gliding steadily in and out of Tony. “I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. Not with you, like this. I said I never intended to hurt you by not telling you about your parents, but I can’t help myself with you. It wasn’t enough to watch the world cause you pain anymore. I had to do it. It had to be me. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but I lied. I want to want not to hurt you. But I can’t stop.” 

“That isn’t love, Steve. That’s possession.” 

“Maybe I don’t really see the difference. Maybe there isn’t a world where you don’t make me want to see you suffer.” That’s all it takes before Steve empties himself inside Tony with a protracted groan. Steve presses in achingly slow as he spasms. Tony can barely feel it through all the haze of pain, but what he does feel goes deep into him. It stretches him and soothes the frigid air outside his ass with the cum that leaks out. 

“I never made you do anything, Steve.” Tony now crawls out from under Steve, yanking his pants up and covering his exposed ass away from Steve. It fucking hurts something awful, and as he turns around he can see Steve’s hanging cock, coated in pink foam and cream. He wonders what it would taste like, before he chastises himself for thinking something so crude and disgusting. Steve hurt him. 

“I know, you’re right. But the way you are is enough to have made me unable to reconcile not having you for myself.” And Steve loves him. That’s the crux of it right there. Tony knows it now. How Steve couldn’t keep himself back. 

To the side, Bucky begins to stir, fingers twitching with wakefulness. 

“You picked Bucky. You _chose_ him over me. How do you expect me to believe you?” The outrage sweeps him then. Steve fucked him, and it means next to nothing, despite whatever he’d said about love.They’re here, aren’t they? To save Bucky of all people. The man who has murdered more people over the past sixty years without a trace than most assassins can do in their lifetime. It matters not at fucking all that Bucky did it brainwashed. What does anyone say to the mothers and fathers of those people who died? Especially those who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Steve doesn’t, can’t want Tony. He’s never wanted Tony. Even if the burn inside his body says otherwise. 

He half thinks he should fire a repulsor at Bucky’s head now, and finish it. 

He can’t bring himself to.

Steve tucks his cock back in then, and says nothing. His face is a wreck, almost like it was Steve that Tony had fucked. The shield is propped up under his hand, and Steve uses it to stand. His uniform is torn to shreds, blood dripping down his face and on the slashes of his arms where Tony has torn the fabric loose. 

Bucky is writhing on the floor now, his metal arm barely attached at the seams. Tony has a vicious sense of satisfaction at the thought that the metal hand would no longer be an option for the Winter Soldier. Nothing should be an option for him, if Tony can help it. 

“It didn’t work did it, Tony? I picked Bucky over you, and it didn’t make me feel better. I give up. You’ll be hearing from me.” 

“Wait, what the fuck does that mean? You can’t just take him. He killed my parents, and he’s going to pay for every second he made them suffer. Don’t you dare go near him!” Tony aims his repulsor at Bucky’s head and quicker than he can think, Steve tosses his shield at Tony’s gauntlet, shattering the focus point of the repulsor. There’s no point in raising his other arm, as Steve will just stop him there too, and he grinds his teeth in anger. Steve is a fucking liar, and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. 

Steve _picked_ Bucky. He’s never chosen Tony. 

“Wait for me, Tony. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Steve hauls Bucky up to his feet, and Tony tries to rise with them, to get up and make sure they don’t leave, but the armor’s weight on his legs along with its stiffness is too much. They lock up underneath him and prevent him from taking a single step. 

Bucky gazes at Tony from beneath his hair, and he looks like a repentant angel. Tony fucking _hates_ him. Steve whispers something in Bucky’s ear as they start to move, and Tony is so sickeningly jealous he can’t watch. How does it mean nothing at all, that Steve has touched him, fucked him, and yet it’s Bucky he’s walking away with it? Tony is never good enough. 

In less than a minute, they’re gone. 

The air is frigid around him. He estimates he has maybe thirty minutes before something he’d miss freezes up. He has to get up. Pulling the legs off, he leaves the base on to protect his feet. It’s enough, though he feels like he’s clanking about. 

As he makes his way outside, the wind hits his face like a million tiny pins. They press into his almost bare torso, and his exposed ass, reminding him what happened. The wet liquid between his cheeks is starting to freeze, but while it’s there, he can’t stop thinking of Steve. 

They’ve left the Avengers Quinjet, though he doesn’t know how they got away otherwise. He’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

After settling in, he plots a course for home. Or whatever is left of it without Steve. 

\--

The package comes while he’s working with Rhodey on his braces. It’s gotten better now; his friend can walk and stand on his own with support. The new muscles he’s been using are beginning to strengthen. 

He wants to laugh at the almost purposeful misuse of his last name by the delivery driver, but his mind is distantly stuck on cavernous, frigid Siberia and the cauterizing heat of Steve sliding in and out of him. Even in these moments of domesticity. 

Tony tells himself that Steve almost violated his consent. That maybe the man did. But inside he feels tremulous guilt, because if that’s what he could have from Steve, he would take it. He’d take every last bit of pain that Steve was willing to heap on him, because Tony was made to bear it. His jealousy rots in him; Barnes is with Steve right now, where Tony wants to be. He can acknowledge that now, and the reality that whatever Steve feels, it might be love. 

He unfolds the letter, hiding himself in Steve’s office where the lingering scent of the man is almost gone from the filtered air. 

_Tony. I’m happy you’re home. I’m happier that you’re alone. I’m not sure I can stand the thought of anyone else around you without me there. I’ve had family, wanted it in turns, but what I really want, is you, to be all mine alone. I know you grieve the loss of the Avengers, but they were only ever together because of us. You and I both know that. Having been on my own since I was young, I never fit in anywhere, until I was with you. Even in the army, it was just another place that I had been denied, until I wasn’t. I put my faith in myself, like Erskine told me to do. To remain a good man. I’m not. You took me in, and I let you down. I know I hurt you, Tony. I knew I wasn’t sparing you, and I wish to god I were sorry, that I was the man you believed me to be. I can’t, won’t, take back what we had in Siberia. Our fight was never about the Accords, though it would have been easier if it were. I think I’ve made a mistake, and I want you to need me, now. I’ve given up on having pretenses when it comes to you. When you want me, and I know that you will, I’ll be there._

He sucks in a breath. Steve. God. 

A cell phone clatters out of the package, and Tony stares at it, a smile creeping over his face. He should be repulsed, disgusted with the man who is saying he wants Tony so much, he had to hurt him. And that now he’s haunted by his own desire. 

But Tony is far from apathetic or angry. He’s so pleased he wants to text Steve right then. His smile turns into an outright grin as he leans back in the chair, imagining what Steve will do when he gets ahold of Tony next time. 

As for the text, distance makes the heart grow fonder, and if Steve wants to lay hands on Tony, he’s going to have to come to him. It’s a good day to be Tony Stark.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://fundamental-blue.tumblr.com/). I mostly post memes.


End file.
